


Miss Jackson

by MAVEfm



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Dallon Weekes (Mentioned) - Freeform, Gen, Kenneth Harris (Mentioned), Miss Jackson-Panic! at the Disco(song)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5976697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAVEfm/pseuds/MAVEfm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Half of a town's population just disappears, the only clue left behind are the words: ARE YOU NASTY?<br/>Sam and Dean find themselves quite useless in the face of a matter of family.</p><p>or</p><p>Brendon Urie has been running from his demons for far too long.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Miss Jackson

 

  “Do we at least know how the demon makes its contracts?” Dean asked his brother, Sam, with his mouth full of fries.

  “No, there’s nothing written in any of the journals Bobby sent and there’s nothing online, even on bogus websites, it’s like the demon just took an entire town with her…” Sam trailed off, running his hand through uncombed brown hair and slammed the top of his laptop down in frustration. “Let's just get a room, this might just be a dead case-”

  “Hey,” Dean interrupted, his voice rough “No case is dead, and I have gone too long without solving one,” He parked their Chevy Impala and clambered out of the drivers seat. “It’s not like you to just abandon a case, chivalry and all that crap.” 

  Sam rolled his eyes and climbed out of passenger seat, “There isn’t any more evidence, Dean,” he grabbed his laptop and bag out from under the seat “It’s like the whole town just got up and left.”

  “Whatever Sammy,” Dean waved a hand over his shoulder as he entered the small lobby of the motel.

   “Vices and Virtues Inn…” Sam mouthed the name of the place, almost struggling to read the sign under all the built up desert sand. He crinkled his nose at what that could be insinuating.

  “Room 112.” A smokers voice drifted through the lobby door and a small metal  _ clink! _ of the keys could be heard as they collided with Dean’s outstretched palm.

  “Thank you ma’am.” Dean drawled and Sam could hear his smirk through the door.

  He walked out of the lobby and toward their car, “Parked right in front of it Sammy, I must be psychic.” Keys were put in locks, and doors were opened, and an expectedly dull motel room was revealed. Dean chose his bed first, flopping onto a rough, pickle colored blanket, and leaned his head against the wall before jumping back up in surprise. “Woah!” he laughed “Some guys gettin’ lucky in 111!” He smiled at Sammy “Or girl, I’m cool with either…”

  Sam once again crinkled his nose “Vices and Virtues.”

  Dean flopped on the bed again, grabbing the remote and flipping the TV onto pure static, he groaned, continuing to flip and talk at the same time “We're not giving up this case Sam, Bobby gave it to us and I’m not gonna argue with that, it’s capitalism right now, and I can’t argue with Bobby now that he’s in that wheelchair…” Dean trailed off, the chair was a touchy subject.

  “Sounds more like feudalism.” Sam argued.

  “Whatever you want to call giving the old man a break, because that’s what we’re doing, and I don’t feel like going back empty handed.”

  The static continued, along with the white noise, it made Sam tired. He turned away from Dean, towards his own bed, sighing, before the painting on the wall opposite caught his eye. It was desert scene, late at night, small dots, representing people, stood in a loose circle around what looked like a lit Broadway sign.

  An exclamation point.

  Smoke flitted out from the center of the circle, the area was bathed in red, whether from the light of the sign or blood, Sam didn't know. “Hey,” He called for Dean over the sound of static “Was this painting here when we got here or--”

  A scream echoed from the room next to theirs and the dim lights flickered before leaving them in pitch darkness, the only light coming from the static television. “Sonnuva--” Dean fell off the bed in surprise, rattling the bedside table on the way down. 

  Dean cursed, rubbing his rug burned elbows in annoyance, “There are some flashlights in my bag,” he pointed, foolishly, before correcting “by the door.” He gathered himself up and turned just as Sam threw a lit silver flashlight at his chest. He fumbled with it for a second and asked, “What the heck was that?!”

  “It came from the room next to us.” Sam answered.  

  Dean shook his head “I  _ know  _ that, dingus, let’s go!”  

  The parking lot was washed with a rain Dean hadn’t even been aware of until now, and the only source of light was the green  _ Vices and Virtues Inn  _ sign, giving the whole lot an unearthly vibe that made the hair on the back of Dean's neck stand on end. Before the brothers could take a step towards room 111, a crackle penetrated the silence and the faint scent of burning rubber welcomed a burning tire. Rolling at a meandering pace, Sam and Dean watched in amazement as it slowed to a stop and  _ thump _ ed to ground a couple feet in front of them.

  “Heh, hey Sam,” Dean pointed to the burning tire “I’m getting real  _ tired  _ of this town.”

  Sam stared at him for a couple seconds, before turning and knocking on the puce door of 111.

  “It wasn’t me,” a panicked muffled voice floated through the door “You can’t put this on me, I know what you want you WITCH!” Sam took a surprised step backwards a something struck the other side of the door, shattering on impact.

  “Uh, hey man,” Sam yelled through the crack in the door “we heard a scream, is there anything we can do to help?” He turned a questioning glance towards Dean, not sure what to do if this guy turned out psycho.

  “Yeah, you can tell that witch that she can go back to the hell she came from,” The voice quivered and continued “and she can take you two with her!” A muffled sob “I just met her today, why can’t I just have one night to myself?”

  The last part wasn’t to them, but Dean knew crazy talk when he heard it “That sound murdery to you?” he pushed Sam away from the door.

  “Dean, we can’t just--”

  Too late, Dean kicked the door in. His line of thinking was,  _ hey, if I can’t catch a demon, I might as well bring a psycho to justice. _

  A line of salt at the door was brushed aside, and Dean glanced quickly at the ceiling to see a hastily drawn devils trap.  _ So not psycho, just paranoid… and a psycho _ .

  Dean took a step inside, coming nose to nose with a katana. “That’s impossible,” the owner of said katana breathed “Nothing can get past the devil’s trap…”

  “You can if it’s drawn as terribly as that,” Dean smirked “But don’t worry kid, we’re clean--” A cup of holy water being splashed onto his face interrupted him, and the katana was put back over it’s owners back. Sam received the same treatment.

  “So you don’t work for her?” the kid asked, and Dean looked him over. He was a couple of inches shorter than himself but at the same time seemed tall and lanky. His dark brown hair was put up in a loose faux hawk and his deep green suit was stained with blood.

  “Work for who?” Sam asked for Dean, who stared at the room he was now presented with.

  “The woman in Gold,” the kid sniffed “Miss Jackson, she calls herself.” 

  The bed was messy with blood, the source of which Dean could now see as a poor woman in a white, sparkly dress, her throat, slashed.

  “She killed the girl,” his voice shook “I’ve been running from her for my whole life…”

  Blood dripped from the wall.

  “She used to chase my whole family, but she struck a deal with my mom, a feudal contract, she called it.”

  Written in the poor girl's blood above the bed.

  “Now she only goes after me, my mother's least favorite son, and now...”

_   ARE YOU NASTY? _

  “She’ll probably go after you too.” 

  
  


  “It’s her Sammy, she’s the one we’re looking for.”

  “What are talking about?” The kid asked.

  “A whole town just south of here, real small, but nearly half the population disappeared, taken.”

  “So how do you know it was Miss Jackson?”

  “Because,” Sam took over “Every person that was taken was with someone else when they disappeared, their throat slashed, with  _ ARE YOU NASTY? _ written in blood above their body, just like that.” Sam pointed at the girl.

  “No…” He took a step back, his lips pressed together in a tight line, eyebrows furrowed in anger “That WITCH!” he roared, grabbing his katana off of his back and slicing the crappy 1980’s television beside him almost cleanly in half. Electricity flowed around the blade for a second, before being sucked back into the blade.

  “Magic sword…” Dean squeaked, stars in his eyes.

  Sam coughed, drawing him back to reality. “It was always just her and me,” the boy huffed “Always running… being a coward like I always am… I should have just given up earlier, stopped running, then maybe she wouldn’t have killed people to get my attention.”

  “If you go after her now, you’re just giving her what she wants.” Sam pushed “You don’t even know where she is.”

  The kid pointed at the painting on the wall, identical to the one in the brothers’ room. “Shouldn’t be hard to find a big exclamation point in the middle of the desert.” He rifled through the clothes strewn all over the floor, and picked out his car keys under some bloody jeans. “I can’t keep running.” 

  “Then we’re going with you--” Dean said.

  “No.”

  “You’re inexperienced, even with that sword, you could die.”Sam said, his voice filled with concern.

  “Then,” he paused “Find my dad for me if I do… tell him his son… tell him Brendon failed, and to watch his back, and tell my mom she can drop dead.” And then he was gone, tearing out of the parking lot in a cherry red convertible.

  “Get in the car, we’re going after him.” Dean stalked out of room 111 toward the Impala.

  “He said he didn’t want help,” Sam argued, but got in the car anyway.

  
  


  “I am the Lady in Gold’s vassal and this is her fief.” The old man gestured widely at the desert “Only a few have been allowed to pass and you are not one of them…”

  A well placed punch in the jaw left him kissing the sand. “Miss Jackson’s not really trying to keep her borders secure,” Dean rubbed his knuckles.

  “Maybe she’s preoccupied.” Sam suggested, fingering his knife nervously, staring at the red-orange glow in the distance. He wished that he had one of those magic katana’s all of a sudden, he would ask Bobby about one once they got out this alive. 

  “Whatever,” Dean grumbled “This Brendon kid better be as good with that sword as he looks.”

  An abandoned cherry red convertible stood solitary, with smoke lazily wisping out of the engine, “Probably stalled, just like the Impala did,we’re getting close.” Sam observed.

  “No kidding,” Dean pointed and Sam saw a shadowy figure, lurching forward with every step. When they caught up with said lurcher, He recognised him as Kenneth Harris, one of the first to be taken. “Hey buddy,” Dean snapped his fingers in front of Ken’s face, nothing. “Huh,” he kept waving his hands in front of Ken’s face “So this is how she took them, it had nothing to do with a contract, she just wanted a way to get Brendon's attention.”

  “C’mon we gotta hurry.” Sam urged, and pulled Dean's hand away from Kenneth the walking vegetable. 

  The broadway exclamation point soon came into view, and with it, confusion. Brendon stood amongst that confusion, white-knuckling his katana.

  “ _ I knew you would come dear, _ ” A sickly sweet voice echoed through the desert air, said through the mouths of the dozens of people gathered in the circle. Brendon glanced around at their blank faces before his eyes returned to the woman in front of him. She was beautiful, but in such a way that made her suspicious, she was different from when he last saw her however. The last time he had seen her he had been about fourteen though, but he always remembered her possessing anybody she found on the street, drug addicts and girls on the street. But now, she looked better, put together and healthy. She was almost glowing under the stage lights of the exclamation point and her gold jewelry suited her more than it had when she was wearing the bodies of addicts. “ _ Do you like her?”  _ She held a hand to his face and he flinched away, she didn’t seem offended “ _ She died earlier this month, and I finally feel happy. _ ” Miss Jackson stared at her hands “ _ Once, long ago I could manifest my own body, perfect and unchanging, but I lost it. _ ” 

  She looked up at him, she was only a few inches shorter than him, but he still found her intimidating, he had seen her tear people in half before.

  Miss Jackson glanced past him and pursed her lips in annoyance, and waved her hand at the small crowd of blank-faced strangers. The frustrated grunting that came next let Brendon know that Sam and Dean had followed him, and were now being held back by the taken people.

  “ _ I’ve lost many things Brendon, _ ” The woman continued “ _ Why do think I chased your family for so long? Because I felt like it? Or maybe because someone refused to follow a contract? No.” _

__

  Brendon crinkled his brow, and Miss Jackson gave an almost sad smile, “ _ Things in hell are changing and many demons have voted to leave me in the dust, saying my methods are outdated, and the return of Lucifer only depends on the Underworlds strongest. _ ” She almost rolled her eyes “ _ Truthfully, I could care less about the affairs of Heaven and Hell, and I haven’t had any methods since I started this crusade against you and your family…”  _ The woman almost looked ashamed. “ _ When I first lost respect for myself, I took the bodies of those that were poisonous on the inside, perhaps they would make me feel better about who I had become…” _

__

_   “Your family destroyed everything I had ever needed, my son, my family, my home I had created away from the unnecessary evil that resided in hell. That is why, Brendon,”  _ She reached up to touch his cheek and this time he didn’t move away.

__

  Miss Jackson’s face softened and she smiled at him, no longer seeming like her beauty was fabricated. “ _That’s why I have terrorized you for so long Brendon, I wanted to tell you before I left, to tell you that you saved me from myself Brendon. Even though it seemed as if I hated you, you were my saviour, my knight_ _in shining armor…”_

__

  “How--” his voice caught in his throat, “You killed all those people… How could I have possibly saved you, if all I’ve wanted you to be is dead?!”

__

_   “Killing no longer gives me the thrill it used to,”  _ She seemed genuinely upset _ “I regret the way I have been doing things ever since your mother sold your soul to me, that is how you saved me Brendon, your fear and anger reminded me of how things used to be, and how a mother should act.”  _ She paused, drawing her hand away from his face. “ _ I want you to kill me Brendon, my time is over, and I will not be spared if the forces of hell are victorious in their crusade to inherit the earth.” _

__

  She grabbed the arm holding his katana, and he protested, “ _ I thought you wanted me dead,”  _ She smiled. “ _ Before I leave you,”  _ She cupped the back of his head in her other hand “ _ I must tell you the whole story…” _  She breathed a thick white cloud smoke into his face, which entered his mouth, flashing images of his family and Miss Jackson’s told the story of her sadness and he regretted not asking questions when he was younger.

  “Brendon!” Sam yelled, thinking he was in danger of possession or other things hazardous to his health. The brothers struggled against their restraints, and Brendon stared at Miss Jackson.

  She nodded, and Brendon, hesitantly, twirled the blade in his hand. He reeled backwards, and swung back forwards, cutting off the Woman’s head.

  Her soul screamed as electricity crackled around the silver katana, before a relaxed sigh filled the air and the smoke that rose from her body disappeared into his blade.

  “Brendon!” Sam panted, grabbing his shoulders “Are you okay?”

  “He’s not possessed right?” Dean asked, shaking off the hold Miss Jackson’s servants had on him, they were beginning to regain consciousness. 

  “No,” Sam answered “What did she show you?”

  “The truth, I think…” Brendon supplied, staring at his katana, before sliding it back onto his back. “My family is really screwed up…”

  “Welcome to the club kid,” Dean slammed a hand onto his back, making him stumble. “At least you ganked your demon right? No more running!”

  The exclamation point flickered, and the sun peeked out from behind the horizon, it would turn to dust when the sun rose, Brendon figured, and his katana felt warm on his back. Vibrating from how much energy it now held. “Excuse me? Um..” A tall, dark haired guy with a sharp nose stumbled towards them. “What the hell is going on?”

  Brendon smiled, for real, for the first time in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for school and it turned out way longer than the teacher wanted haha


End file.
